


snowdrop

by kitkatkaylie, procellous



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Culture Shock, Jon Snow is a Stark, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:29:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25696567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitkatkaylie/pseuds/kitkatkaylie, https://archiveofourown.org/users/procellous/pseuds/procellous
Summary: Satin was delighted to be invited up to Winterfell to celebrate the New Year with his boyfriend’s family. The only problem was that he knew next to nothing about them.
Relationships: Jon Snow & Starks, Satin Flowers/Jon Snow, Theon Greyjoy/Robb Stark/Sansa Stark
Comments: 5
Kudos: 66





	1. Chapter 1

“Are you sure you want me there?” Satin asked. “I mean, it’s your family, I don’t want to impose or anything…”

He wasn’t sure whether he wanted Jon to say yes or not. Jon could be cagey about his family—not intentionally, Satin thought, but just because Jon was a private guy. Really, all that Satin knew about them was that Jon’s family was large, tight-knit, and Northern. Satin had never met any of them, though it wasn’t like Jon had ever met Satin’s family. Satin’s mom disapproved of Jon on principle. 

“You’re not going to be imposing. My brother’s bringing his friend over, too.”

“Wait, Jon, are you out to them yet? Do they know that I’m your boyfriend?”

Jon laughed. “They know I’m bringing my boyfriend.”

“Well that’s- that’s good.” Satin said, “Is there anything I should know about what to expect?”

Jon’s face turned thoughtful for a moment, “Well, it’s very cold in Winterfell, so make sure you bring warm clothes. And the New Year celebrations can be quite formal, so you might want to pack your formal clothes.”

Well that wasn’t too bad. Satin could do all that. He just hoped there was nothing Jon was forgetting to tell him. 

—

The drive had been a long one, going from Oldtown up to the North. They had stopped overnight in the Riverlands, staying in a small hotel just outside of Riverrun. 

Jon had insisted on paying for it, had not even let Satin look at the bill for the room or the meal, just as he had insisted on paying for petrol and food every time they stopped. He claimed it was because it was his fault they couldn't just fly up, that Ghost did not do well on planes, and that he could not leave him behind. 

They had taken it in turns to drive most of the way, but once they were passed the Neck Jon had insisted upon driving. When Satin saw the ice already upon the Kingsroad he found himself relieved that Jon had insisted so, he had never driven on ice before. 

Satin had expected to see a house larger than the one he grew up in, not least because it would have been impossible for Jon’s family to have fit inside his childhood home.

He had not expected the castle though.

They had driven through Wintertown, through streets which got older the closer they got to the centre. Through streets lined with tall thin stone houses, and over streets still paved with cobblestones in places. It reminded him of Oldtown in a way, the ancient feel of it, even though the architecture could not have been more different.

He’d expected them to stop in one of the housing estates towards the outskirts, one containing large modern houses, but they had not. Instead they had continued on and on until they were actually at the gates of the castle which overlooked the whole town.

When Jon had been greeted by name at the gatehouse, when he had been called ‘Ser’ and not had to show any ID to enter, that was when things had started to click for Satin.

Stables and kennels and a large garage waited inside the walls, and Jon quite happily parked his car between a bright yellow sports car and a beefy looking four by four. Ghost had rushed straight off when released from the car, obviously aware of exactly where he was going. Satin envied him that. He followed Jon around to the entrance, his small, battered bag in hand, and completely unable to hide his wide eyes. 

“You grew up _here_?”

Jon laughed nervously. “Yes?”

“Were- were your parents staff? Or…”

Jon shifted in place, “No, umm, this is actually the family castle? It was built by one of my ancestors a few millennia ago?”

Satin stared up at the imposing heavy wooden doors of the castle before him. They practically screamed age and wealth, carved as they were with wolves and leaves. He had known that Jon’s family had money - how could he not when Jon never seemed to need to scrimp and save like the rest of their friends - but he had not quite realised how wealthy they truly were.

“Come on,” Jon said, pushing open the door without a blink of the eye, “If we’re lucky Robb will have been baking.”

Satin probably should have expected the elaborate entrance hall based upon the door alone, but it still came as a shock to him.

There was dark wood panelling on the walls, with severe portraits of people in period dress who looked like Jon interspaced along them. A pale grey rug sat upon the stone floor, blue roses and elaborate scroll work forming a border. It all looked very old and very expensive, and Satin found himself scared to touch anything. He stuffed his hands in his pockets, trailing after Jon like a museum guest following a docent. 

The sound of a door shutting drew his attention, and Satin suddenly found himself feeling frumpy when compared to the beauty who had just walked through it.

Long red hair and long pale legs, were Satin’s first impression. His second was awe at the way she crossed the room in heels of an impressive height without a single falter upon the uneven stones. 

“Jon!” She called out with a smile, pressing a kiss upon his cheek when she reached them, “You made good time today.”

“Sansa,” Jon’s voice was soft, “It’s good to see you.”

So this must have been the elder of Jon’s sisters, his surprisingly poetic and conflicting descriptions of her suddenly made so much sense. She did somehow manage to look like someone who would not hesitate to crush him like a gnat if he hurt her family and like someone who would hug him and feed him cookies if he was sad. He must have made some noise at that realisation, for her attention turned to him.

A strong gaze, not at all softened by the lemon printed dress she was wearing, turned upon Satin, and he found himself wanting to straighten to attention under it. 

“You must be Satin,” Sansa said. “Jon’s told us so much about you.”

“He has?” Satin asked, trying to quelch the sudden nervousness in his gut. 

“Well, by Jon’s standards of ‘so much.’” She gave him a conspiratorial smile.

“Shut up Sansa.” Jon muttered, the tips of his ears going red, “How did you know we were here anyway?”

Sansa smiled with a hint of condescension, “Jory phoned up from the gate and I won the thumb war to come and greet you first.”

Satin couldn’t imagine the elegant beauty that was Sansa engaging in a thumb war, and yet it also made a weird sort of sense, for that was Jon’s favourite way of resolving arguments. 

“JonJonJonJon!” A tiny child chanted as they ran into the room, leaving muddy footprints behind them. He threw himself at Jon’s leg, wrapping his arms and legs around it like an octopus, Jon rocked with the movement, a gesture that told Satin such a greeting was usual.

“Hello Rickon.” Jon beamed down at the child, “Have you had a nice time at school this year?”

Rickon nodded his head so fast that it made Satin feel a little queasy to look at it.

“Satin,” Jon called out to him, “Do you mind reaching into my bag and grabbing the package on top?”

Satin had wondered why Jon had brought his backpack inside with him, when he had left his suitcase in the car. He reached inside it and pulled out a small package wrapped in bright green paper.

“Is that for me?” Rickon bounced in place even with his arms still wrapped around Jon’s leg.

“I don’t know,” Jon teased, “Can you see any other very grown up boy with mud on his face?”

Rickon peeled himself away from Jon’s leg long enough to look around the room with a confused expression, “No?”

“Well then it must be yours!” Jon presented the gift with a flourish.

Rickon tore off the wrapping paper like a dragon ripping into a goat carcass or a wolf tearing into a deer; to reveal a small soft toy wolf with a bright green bow around its neck. 

“He looks like Shaggy!” Rickon cried happily, “I love him! Thanks Jon!”

Jon’s littlest brother rushed off again, his new wolf in his hand, as fast and as loudly as he had arrived. 

“Rickon has separation anxiety.” Jon confided in a low voice, “We manage it by giving him a present or a treat when we return. That and Osha is an absolute godsend when it comes to calming him down.”

There was a moment of stillness as he left, before Sansa turned to Satin with a critical eye.

“Are the rest of your bags in the car?” Sansa asked with a kind smile.

The kindness did not stop the embarrassment Satin felt from reading its ugly head, “No,” he whispered.

“Oh, no worries!” Her voice was kind yet not pitying, “I’m sure if you end up needing anything you can always borrow something of Jon’s or Robb’s, or we can always go into Wintertown or White Harbour for the day to pick it up.”

Satin did not know why he might need more than he had brought, surely there was a washing machine he could use in this castle at some point over the course of the month.

He nodded his head though, it seemed rude to just stare at her in confusion.

“Robb is in the kitchen at the moment,” Sansa said, turning back to Jon, “He’s been baking your favourites all morning, so don’t let his claims of not missing you fool you. I need to go send some pictures of the Godswood to Margie, she’s been making noise about doing a photo shoot there at some point this month, her family’s magazine is preparing for their winter edition.”

Her words washed over Satin, for he really did not understand most of them. She spoke of places and people that he had no reference for, and so he contented himself instead by watching the way Jon’s face contained a soft love for his sister.

A hand slipped into his and squeezed gently as Sansa swanned off, “Shall we head to the kitchen? Or would you like a moment to catch your breath?” Jon asked gently.

Satin took a deep breath and made sure he smiled. “Let’s go see your brother, I know you’ve missed him and I could do with a cup of tea.”

The way Jon’s eyes softened made forcing through his worry at meeting the brother that Jon idolised worth it. 

He tried to make a note of the corridors they walked through, tried to make a map of the route to the kitchen in his head, but they were all too alike with their dark wood and ancient portraits. Every so often they passed a member of the castle household, a North dark man or woman dressed in a grey and white uniform, all of whom would greet Jon almost deferentially. 

The kitchen was about as big as Satin’s apartment. A man leaned against a counter, licking batter off of his fingers. He smirked at them when they walked in. 

“Greyjoy,” Jon said. “Where’s Robb?”

“Trying to convince Arya to give him back the rolling pin. Now, who are _you_? Jon’s never brought a date home before.”

“That’s not true,” Jon said. “I brought Tormund home.”

“Oh, you were actually dating him? I figured you were faking it, considering how Sansa was threatening to set you up with one of her friends if you didn’t get a date before then.”

“I’m not you, Theon, I can ask people I actually like out. How long have you been pining away?”

Theon flushed. “Watch it, Snow.”

“Anyway, this is Satin, he’s my boyfriend.” 

“My condolences, Satin.” Theon turned and properly addressed him for the first time. “For having such a miserable boyfriend. I assume he is excellent in bed to make up for the rest of him.”

“Put the kettle on Greyjoy and use those manners you like to pretend you don’t have while I hunt down Robb.” Jon scoffed, he gently guided Satin to sit at the large wooden table and then pulled a mug patterned with the most hideous painted wolf that Satin had ever seen out of one of the cupboards.

“Who died and made you king, Snow?” Theon fired back, but he still put the kettle on as Jon had asked.

Satin had a sneaking suspicion that most of their animosity was out of habit and for show, rather than indicating any true feeling between them.

Jon stuck a tea bag in the mug and flipped Theon off before leaving them alone in the kitchen. If Satin was any less secure in himself he would have been offended and hurt by how quickly Jon had left him upon returning to his home. 

“Now he’s gone, let me give you the rundown on the Starks, one outsider to another.” Theon smirked as he plonked the mug of freshly brewed tea in front of him and flung himself into another chair.

Satin was intrigued despite himself, it would be nice to be prepared for whatever he might face, even if he wasn’t quite sure that he trusted what he would be told.

He nodded and curled his hands around the mug of tea before him on the table. Forewarned is forearmed, as Mormont would say.

“Right, first we have Ned and Cat, King Eddard and Queen Catelyn that is, he seems gruff but is actually soft as butter, she seems soft but is as hard as stone. There will be PDA from both of them, and it is entirely normal as they are sickeningly in love. Then there is Robb and Sansa, they seem perfect and they are.” His voice turned wistful and Satin understood Jon’s mention of pining.

He hid his smile with a sip of tea, “Go on, what about the younger ones?”

Theon rolled his eyes, “Hellions the lot of them. Arya can sneak around like some sort of assassin, and I’m pretty sure she has the same skill set, what with her water dancing and archery lessons. Bran knows everything. No one knows how, but he. Knows. Everything. Rickon is somehow the most normal and wildest of the lot, seeing him without mud somewhere on him is a miracle and sometimes it seems like his nanny is the only one who can get him to do anything.” 

That was all useful information to know, although Satin was a little concerned by the thought of Jon’s younger brother knowing what they got up to. 

“Thank you,” he said sincerely, “Jon doesn’t talk much.”

Theon shook his head and leaned forwards, a solemn light in his eyes. “It’s no trouble. Don’t tell Snow I told you, but he is obviously head over heels for you. He doesn’t give that mug to just anyone you know, Robb nearly had a finger broken when he tried to use it once.”

Suddenly Theon’s words truly registered and Satin’s head shot up, “Wait. What do you mean King Eddard and Queen Catelyn?”

Theon started to laugh, hard enough that he fell off his chair, and Satin scowled. Jon was right, Theon really was an arsehole.

As soon as Theon had his breath back he left the room, saying that he was going to hunt down Jon and find out what was taking him so long. Satin doubted he was really going to do that, but he could do nothing more than wait for someone to return.

Satin barely had a moment to register that other people had entered the room before he was swept up in a hug.

Red hair filled his eyes, and strong arms held him close and the unmistakable scent of wet dog filled his nose. 

From the grin Jon was sporting it was highly likely that his face was a picture. Satin could feel how wide his eyes were, and knew that he must have looked rather comical.

“Let him breathe Robb,” Jon scolded fondly. “Not everyone likes to be engulfed when they meet you.”

The man holding Satin backed off with a deep laugh, “Screw you Snow. You love me.”

Jon curled a hand over his mouth, a move Satin knew was to hide his smile, “Do I? It’s hard to remember sometimes when you decide to attack my boyfriend.”

Robb grinned, “Fucker.” He turned back to Satin, “I’m Robb by the way. Jon’s older and better looking brother.”

“I’m Satin, it’s nice to meet you.” He glanced at Jon and smiled slyly, “And I’m afraid you’re incorrect. Jon is by far the more attractive brother.”

Jon started to choke with laughter at the taken aback look in his brother’s bright blue eyes. Admittedly Satin knew that Robb was conventionally attractive, but there was something about Jon’s dark brooding features which he found far more lovely.

“Well I guess someone had to think so eventually.” Robb sighed, with what Satin thought was affected sadness. “Such a shame really, I thought you had good taste when I first saw you.”

“Robb Stark!” A very disappointed voice called from the doorway, “How dare you speak to a guest that way? Mother raised us better than this!”

Their attention moved to the door, where Sansa and Theon stood, the former with a disappointed frown and the second with a smug grin.

“Ooh, Robb’s in trouble.” Another girl, shorter and looking more like Jon than any of the others called as she came in through another door.

“What’s he done this time Sansa? Has he insulted your cooking again?” A boy in a wheelchair asked with a shit eating grin which was the same as Jon’s when he was causing trouble.

“He _what?”_ Sansa whipped her head to glare at her brother.

It was both amusing and slightly terrifying how Robb cowered before the force of her glare, but judging by the grins on the faces of everyone else they found it hilarious.

“Arya! Bran! Have you met Satin yet?” Robb said, desperately trying to remove the attention on him, “He’s Jon’s boyfriend.”

Two sharp gazes turned to him and Satin nearly cowered before them. Both seemed like they could see down to his very soul, only in completely different ways.

Arya, Jon’s favourite sister and the one he was most concerned about impressing, seemed like she was evaluating him, seeking out his weaknesses and trying to decide the best way to take him down.

Bran though, Bran’s gaze was far more terrifying. He looked at Satin like he could see his every move, like he could see every choice Satin had ever made and he was judging them.

Jon had some very creepy siblings.

“It’s good to meet you both.” Satin smiled at them, “Jon’s told me all about you, well as much as he speaks.”

Arya smiled, but it was not a friendly smile, it was a bloodthirsty smile, “It’s nice to meet you as well. Be warned though, there is a lot of land here and it’s very easy to get lost in the snow, it would be a shame if something were to happen to you.”

Had he just been threatened? Threatened by a girl half his height? A girl who looked like she would absolutely be able to follow through with her threat. 

“Arya!” Sansa scolded, “Am I the only one who seems to remember my manners today?”

Arya looked away and mumbled an insincere apology. Satin didn’t blame her though, if he had siblings he would have been just as protective of them.

“I’m so sorry for my siblings Satin.” Jon said with a falsely sad shake of his head.

“It’s alright.” Satin pressed a soft kiss against Jon’s cheek, “They love you is all, besides it’s not like I haven’t heard worse from Grenn and Pyp.”

“Still, we must be quite a shock for you, which I can at least apologise for.” Sansa said, “Anyway, Mum and Dad should be done with their official welcoming of the Reeds and their declaration of the start of the New Year celebrations, so you should be free to go meet them if you want now.”

Jon looked at Satin and linked their fingers together, “Thanks Sansa. Come on, my parents have been anxious to meet you for a while now.”

—

At any point meeting the parents of your boyfriend was going to be terrifying. Meeting said parents when they were also the monarchs of the North was a whole new level of terrifying.

(To say nothing of how he hadn’t even known they were royalty until a mere hour before)

His hands felt clammy and he knew that he was clutching Jon’s hand harder than he perhaps should have been. 

“It’ll be alright. Father already likes you from the stories he’s heard.” Jon tried to comfort him, but it did not work.

Not when the door opened to admit the pair of them to the Throne Room at that very moment. The only blessing perhaps, was that there was no one else in the room, only Jon and Satin and Jon’s parents.

Satin’s eyes widened at the sight of them, at the elaborate dress they wore, at the crowns upon their heads as they rose from the twin thrones.

He had not quite believed that they truly were monarchs before this point, some part of him had still thought it a joke, but now there was no denying it.

“Jon.” Eddard Stark moved forwards with his arms outstretched, revealing the true extent of his outfit.

Pure white fur lay across his shoulders, going down into a cloak of grey so dark it was a sky black. Beneath his cloak lay a tunic of pale grey samite, trimmed with more white fur, and fastened with silver. All over there seemed to be red leaves embroidered and beaded, adding colour over the pale grey and white of the rest. 

It was quite the outfit, and Satin felt so very small before the man wearing it. 

Next to King Eddard stood Queen Catelyn, and it was easy to see the resemblance to her children in her face and red hair. Her gown was no less elaborate than the outfit her husband wore, but where his was pale grey, hers was a darker shade, the colour of slate. It held long sleeves, shaped like those of a Queen in a tale or as in the portraits of her castle walls, sleeves which dragged along the floor and brushed against her full skirts, and again there were the red leaves everywhere.

Satin didn’t know what the significance of the red leaves was, but he was sure it would not be long before he found out.

He watched as Jon was pulled into his father’s arms, the contrast between Eddard’s robes and Jon’s old jeans sharp and jagged before his eyes. 

When Jon was released into his mother’s arms Eddard turned his attention to Satin.

“You must be Satin. It’s a pleasure to meet you lad, anyone who can make Jon smile like he does when talking of you will always be welcome in Winterfell. I’m Ned, Jon’s father, and this is Cat.”

“Thank you ser, I mean-“ Satin panicked, completely unsure of how he should address him.

“Ned lad, call me Ned.” Ned put a calming hand upon Satin’s shoulder. “I don’t like hearing any titles within my home, nor from any family.”

“I quite agree,” Catelyn said, snatching his hands up in her own, “Besides, Sansa and Rickon already think highly of you from what I hear, and it would not do for them to think we are slighting you by having you use honourifics.”

Satin forced a smile, his family would never believe this. 

—

Satin: Did you know Jon was a Prince????

Sam: Wait, you didn’t know? How?

Satin: He wears jeans that are so old they are grey rather than black

Satin: I’ve seen him so sleep deprived that he kept stepping in Ghost’s water bowl and getting confused why his foot was wet

Satin: AT NO POINT DID I LOOK AT HIM AND THINK HES A PRINCE

Sam: lol

Sam: You’re fucked

Sam: Gilly said that was mean of me. She said to remind you to wear gloves, one of her sisters nearly lost her fingers once.

Satin: You’re so helpful. Really. 

-

Satin: DID U KNOW JON’S A PRINCE 

Grenn: I’m not falling for this one this time.

Grenn: I got enough grief over believing Ghost is a wolf.

Satin: … but Ghost _is_ a wolf???

-

Pyp: Stop trying to confuse Grenn.

Pyp: That’s my job.

Pyp: Wait…are you at Jon’s?

Pyp: I’ll sell you my soul for an autograph from his sister


	2. Chapter 2

Satin had nearly thumped Jon when they finally retired to his room. The only reason he hadn’t, was the genuinely apologetic look upon his face (that and Satin wasn’t a violent person anyway).

“So what did you think of my family?” Jon said sheepishly, as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“They were nice, although I was a little hung up on the things you did not mention about them.” Satin fixed Jon with a glare, “You couldn’t have warned me your family were literal royalty? That _you_ were literal royalty?”

“I thought you knew!” Jon held his hands up in front of him, as though to ward off a blow.

“How could I have possibly known?”

“Well, it’s not like Stark is a very common name, now, is it?”

Satin could hardly believe Jon had just said that to him, could hardly believe that was his argument.

“Until this morning I thought your surname was Snow. Because that is how you were introduced to me, and because that is the name on all of your ID.”

Jon winced. “Ah. I’d forgotten about that. It’s, well, it’s a security measure. A compromise so that I don’t have bodyguards at uni.”

That did make sense, Satin supposed, but it was still slightly insulting that Jon had never even told him his surname. 

“I’m still mad at you that you brought me all this way without telling me who you really are.” Satin pouted.

Jon smiled slightly, and pulled him into a kiss, “I shall endeavour to make it up to you then.”

—

Chaos. That was all Satin could think when he sat down at the table for dinner. Pure and utter chaos.

There had been an argument brewing all day, according to Jon, and if they were lucky they would get to watch it explode.

Satin was not sure what was lucky about that, but then, he did not have any siblings of his own so the whole idea was foreign.

Even he could feel the tension between Arya and Bran though, even he could feel the anticipation from the other Starks.

“So,” Arya smirked slowly, “Jojen Reed?”

Jon’s father looked up from his plate, “What about Howland’s boy?”

Arya’s eyes narrowed in gleeful malice. “Bran has a crush on him.”

“Arya!” Bran shouted, offense and embarrassment colouring his voice.

“Wait, has Bran finally discovered feelings?” Robb teased.

“More like he’s discovered his cock.” Theon said, as he leaned over the table to high five Robb.

“Theon!” “Robb!” Sansa and Catelyn exclaimed at the same time, but any other chastisement they were going to deliver was derailed by Bran’s next words. 

“Arya likes Gendry!” Bran said with what could only be described as a sneer. 

“Go away Bran!” Arya yelled, as she loaded up her fork with potato, like she was going to throw it. 

Bran smirked at her, “Make me.”

Almost in slow motion the potato was launched from Arya’s fork, only it did not hit its mark. No, it missed Bran completely and splattered against the front of Satin’s shirt.

Silence fell upon the table, and the Starks all turned as one to look at their mother, even those who had not been involved.

Satin was prepared for yelling to start, for anger and for that disappointed shake of the head that all mothers seemed to be able to do. But none of that happened, instead Catelyn merely pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. 

“Arya, apologise to Satin for attacking him with potatoes, and to Bran for bringing up information he was not ready to share. Bran, apologise to Arya for bringing up information she was not ready to share and provoking her.” Catelyn said in a tired voice, “And both of you apologise to everyone else for making a scene at the dinner table.”

The reluctance of the siblings to apologise was obvious, but Satin supposed it was difficult to be entirely defiant when your mother was also your monarch, for both did as they were bade.

“Apologies for my unruly children.” Ned said with a wry smile, “That argument has been brewing all week. And I suppose it is better that they get it out now, rather than in their archery lesson or when we are setting up the Godswood.”

Satin could not help but smile back, “There is no need to apologise, I’ve always heard siblings are like this, and Pyp and Grenn get up to far worse arguments at home.”

“Were they the ones who decided to dress up as Jon for Stranger’s day?” Robb leaned forwards with the same teasing look he had given Bran.

“Yes.” Satin glanced at Jon’s reddening face, “They stole his clothes and went around with frowns on their faces, telling everyone that ‘Winter is coming’ that they ‘knew nothing’ and other such Jon-isms.”

Jon’s whole face went scarlet. Satin had not intended to bring up the story initially, but he thought it was fair enough payback for Jon not telling him the truth about his family. 

—

“Where’s Ghost?” Satin asked, he had not seen the wolf since they had first arrived, which was strange, for usually Jon and Ghost were inseparable.

(It could be a little annoying when Satin wanted some  _ private  _ time with Jon)

Jon grinned at him, “He’s visiting his siblings, they’re probably terrorising the grounds as we speak with Rickon at their side.”

“How many siblings does Ghost have exactly?” Satin could not keep from picturing a pack of wolves, every single one with Ghost’s bright white fur and piercing red eyes.

“Probably not as many as you think.” Jon said, “Ghost has five siblings, three brothers and two sisters.”

Satin blinked, that seemed a strange coincidence, “Just like you.”

Jon laughed, “Dad planned it that way, when Uncle Benjen told him of a pack of orphaned wolf pups up near the Wall he had them brought here for us. Supposedly to teach us responsibility.” 

“Your dad, your dad  _ the King,  _ gave you each a wolf pup to raise. Was he not worried about the danger?” Satin could hear his voice raise in pitch at the end but did not care, he was still too horrified by the image of a small child holding a wolf pup.

“Well, considering that when we first got them they were so young none of them could open their eyes, I don’t think it was too much of a worry for Dad. Besides, the Starks have raised wolves for generations, we’re all taught how to train them and there are always specialists around.”

That sounded slightly less reckless than Satin had originally pictured, and he did have to admit that Ghost was very well trained and would not hurt anyone unless Jon told him to.

“Where will they be then? Ghost and his siblings I mean, will they be begging for scraps in the kitchens?” Satin could hardly imagine that Catelyn would allow a pack of wolves to roam a castle in which he was still scared to touch things for fear of breaking them.

“You’ll want your coat, and probably hat, scarf and gloves as well.” Jon stood and stretched, “Ghost will be in the Godswood most likely.”

Satin had heard about the Godswood, usually mentioned by Jon in a wistful tone while he talked about his home, but it was also the staple of any movie set in the North with romantic films in particular often using the snowy woods for their love confessions.

It had been one of the things he wanted to see on his trip to the North, only he had expected for them to visit a public Godswood, not a private one contained within the walls of Jon’s ancestral family castle.

He dutifully went to find his warm clothes, if Jon thought he needed them then he most certainly would. In fact, he would probably need even more clothing than Jon had suggested, for his boyfriend had a skewed perception of the cold. 

Satin would never forget the time that Jon had gone out in the snow in a t-shirt and shorts while the rest of them had all worn layer upon layer of clothing.

He felt like a penguin, all bundled up in his layers as he waddled after Jon through the halls of the castle and out to the Godswood. He still had very little idea of how exactly to traverse the winding corridors, and was only really confident in making his way from Jon’s (set!) of rooms to the kitchen, and that was only because Jon had carefully pointed out all the landmarks on the way; such as the painting of the wolf with a crown on its head and the bust which was missing its nose. 

Satin wasn’t quite sure what he had been expecting from the Godswood, something a little like the obviously stylised versions in the movies crossed with the manicured gardens of Oldtown perhaps. He had not been expecting the wild beauty that took his breath away.

Large roots twisted across the floor, their highest points forming arches high enough that Satin could have walked through them with his back straight. The sun filtered through the needles and red leaves; so that it covered the floor in a dappled light like something out of a painting. At the centre, above a pool that bubbled and steamed, stood a white barked tree. A weirwood, the Heart Tree with a carved face that wept red sap and sent shivers down Satin’s spine. 

A tall man with his hood up and his back to them stood in the centre of the Godswood, a crate with fairy lights and lanterns overflowing at his feet.

“Robb!” Jon called out happily, “You starting to decorate already?”

Robb turned around, and as they got closer Satin could see the large grin on his face.

“Well it’s never too early, especially considering that  _ someone _ is too busy to help.”

Satin ducked his head, sure that Robb was actually angry with Jon for spending time with him instead of his brother.

“Well maybe if  _ someone _ actually manned up and admitted to their crush that they liked them, they could be enjoying the warmth instead of banished to the Godswood by mum.” Jon shot back.

“Prick.” Robb said, voice full of affection and warmth.

“Moron.” Jon shot back, with the same level of affection. “Anyway, we came because Satin wanted to meet the rest of the wolves, not to help you.”

“Figures.” Robb sniffed haughtily before breaking into a huge grin, “They’re off in the woods somewhere. There’s the usual excitement over Ghost being home, even Lady’s been coming back covered in mud.”

Satin guessed that such a thing was rare, and that perhaps Lady was as aptly named as Ghost was.

Robb whistled sharply, and the sound of snapping twigs and crunching leaves made its way towards them. 

Both Robb and Jon braced themselves, and so Satin copied them. He had no idea what to really expect, only the vague imaging of a horde of wolves as excited as Ghost got when they took the cheese out of the fridge.

And then, the most glorious sight that Satin had seen in a long while: a horde of fluffy faces and wagging tails.

Six wolves, each one seemingly fluffier than the last, raced towards them. Their tongues lolled from their mouths and if their tails wagged any harder then they might have taken off. 

A head knocked into his hip, and for a moment Satin thought he would keep his balance, and then a second head batted at him and he toppled over. 

Satin fell back into the snow, surrounded by large fluffy wolves.

“You alright there?” Jon asked in a tone that was somehow concerned and amused at the same time.

Satin let out a sigh of contentment, “Just leave me here. I could die quite happily surrounded by all this fluff.”

Jon huffed out a laugh, one which Ghost almost seemed to echo, his breath warm in Satin’s ear.

He twisted his hands in the hair of the wolf in front of him and sighed again, this really was the life. 

—

“So who is it you have a crush on then, Theon?” Satin asked as they sat in the kitchen, a pint of ice cream on the table between them.

“I have no idea what you are talking about,” Theon denied, “I have never had a crush on anyone, ever.”

“That’s such a load of bullshit.” Satin scoffed, “Jon’s already told me all about the crush you had on Patrek Mallister and one of the local girls. He particularly likes to recount the time you got drunk and attempted to serenade Patrek.”

Theon huffed and ate a spoonful of the ice cream, “I will have you know that it was a perfectly valid idea. Just because I managed to choose a song that Patrek hated and managed to wake the whole of the estate doesn’t mean that objectively it was a bad call on my part.”

“You were trending for a week Theon.” Sansa swanned in with a delicate smirk on her lips, “That was a little more than a bad call. Don’t you still get called ‘Achy Breaky Heart Boy’ by Yara?”

Theon’s eyes followed Sansa around the room, and there was the faintest tongue of redness on the back of his neck. Satin swallowed his grin at how obvious Theon was in his feelings for her, and how oblivious Sansa must have been to not notice them.

“Oh I remember seeing that, it was a few years ago now right? Didn’t you have a traffic cone on your head as well?” 

Theon put his head to the table, “Is that to be my legacy? My drunken serenade with my traffic cone hat?”

Sansa perched on the table next to Theon’s head, “Aww, don’t worry, there is always the video of you drunkenly cuddling Greywind and complaining that he was too fluffy; or the one of you wearing my mother’s dress and standing on the battlements while reciting the monologue from Florian and Jonquil.”

“I could talk about the humiliating videos I have of you.” Theon lifted his head just enough to shoot a besotted glare at Sansa.

“Rubbish.” Sansa swung her legs happily, “I am flawless in everything. There are no humiliating videos or photos of me.”

That was something that Satin could easily believe, there was a sort of effortless elegance that surrounded Sansa, and he could see why Theon was so besotted with her.

(If he swung a different way and wasn’t utterly enamoured with Jon, then Satin could almost see himself forming an attraction to Sansa.)

“Actually Satin, speaking of Theon’s terrible attempts at flirting, how exactly did you and Jon get together?” Sansa cocked her head at him, a little like Ghost did when he was confused.

“Yeah, surely Snow didn’t manage to actually woo you. I’m pretty sure his only emotions are gloominess and a perverse enjoyment of my misfortune.” Theon lifted his head fully this time, and even leaned back in his chair so he could survey Satin.

Satin narrowed his eyes slightly, he did not appreciate those insinuations about Jon at all. 

“I will have you know that Jon was very sweet when he made his move.” He said then twisted his lips into a sly smile as he looked at Theon, “It’s remarkable how verbose he was once he realised how I had actually been flirting with him for a while.”

Theon raised an eyebrow at him, “Really? Jon Snow, Jon can’t-speak-to-anyone-he-finds-attractive-without-blushing Snow?” 

Satin scowled, “Yes. Jon, my boyfriend. Who only took a mere month to stop blushing around me. That Jon.”

Sansa giggled, “Well you have to agree that my brother is not exactly the model of how best to flirt with someone.”

Satin did not have to admit anything.

“Go on then, how did you get together with Broody McBroodface?” Theon leaned forwards in anticipation.

A fond smile turned up the corners of Satin’s mouth as he remembered, “Well, Sam can really be blamed for it, he got fed up with my flirting with Jon and Jon’s obliviousness so he sent us both on a picnic and forgot to tell us that no one else would be going.”

They had certainly been shocked to arrive at the park and find Gilly waiting for them on a red blanket laid out with food that could only be described as romantic; only for her to make her excuses and leave them almost immediately. 

“Jon very sweetly confessed that he liked me, I informed him that I had been flirting with him for nearly the entire time we had known each other, he blushed, and I kissed him.” Satin summarised, not wanting to completely recount the whole story to Jon’s little sister and rival/friend. “And then I shoved a roll in his face.”

Sansa and Theon’s mouths dropped open.

“You didn’t.” Sansa gasped, “Why would you do that?”

Satin shrugged, “I was annoyed at how good a kisser he was. I mean, I missed out on a year of those kisses because of his obliviousness and had to release that frustration somehow.” He turned his gaze upon Theon, “So really Theon, unless you want to be hit in the face by a roll as well perhaps you should actually talk about your feelings instead of just wistfully pining.”

Theon glared at him, a glare that promised pain if he continued to speak; but Sansa tapped her chin thoughtfully. And that, at least, was a success in Satin’s eyes.


End file.
